<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Perfect Gift by Mierke</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031439">Perfect Gift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke'>Mierke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, POV Greg Serrano, Secret Santa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:22:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He sighed again as he stared at his screen, but his Secret Santa app wouldn't budge. No matter how many times he closed and re-opened it, the name stayed the same, the 'Rebecca Bunch' proudly blinking as if the app was doing him a favour.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rebecca Bunch/Greg Serrano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Perfect Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/gifts">SuburbanSun</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by the prompt:<br/>"It’s the holidays in West Covina, and Greg gets Rebecca’s name in the friend group's gift exchange. How does he find the perfect present that says both “I’m still kind of sort of in love with you” and also “I spent no time on this whatsoever because pssh who cares?”"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>How</i> had he gotten roped into this? Greg sighed as he tried to figure out who to blame. Josh, probably, or wait, no, White Josh this time, who had somehow gotten under his skin enough that he had signed up for this ridiculous idea. </p>
<p>He sighed again as he stared at his screen, but his Secret Santa app wouldn't budge. No matter how many times he closed and re-opened it, the name stayed the same, the 'Rebecca Bunch' proudly blinking as if the app was doing him a favour. </p>
<p>Could he still back out now? Surely the app had a default button and his finger was hovering over it when he realized - Valencia would kill him. And Greg would never admit this to anyone when asked, but Valencia still scared him. Buying a gift for Rebecca it would be, then.</p><hr/>
<p>He would just buy her that book she was always talking about. The Miranda one, what was it called? At least that was something he knew she would like, and he could stop thinking about this.</p><hr/>
<p>He couldn't just buy her a book he knew she wanted. What if she bought it before then? What if Secret Santa gave it to her and she'd be all disappointed because it was the same book she'd ordered just two days ago, or worse, the one she'd just finished reading? That would be, like, the worst gift ever.</p><hr/>
<p>He could just give her a gift card for his restaurant. Sure, that would be the easy way out, but he knew she liked eating there, he knew he was giving her good food, so would it really be such a bad idea? He shuddered as he pictured Valencia's face when he handed over the gift card. Definitely not a good idea.</p><hr/>
<p>He could buy her tickets to a musical. That would be something a friend did, right? He knew she liked musicals, there was nothing weird about that. He would just give her two tickets, so she could invite whoever she wanted (he was not hoping she'd invite him, he was not). </p>
<p>He looked up some of the theatres in Los Angeles and found one that was playing <i>My Fair Lady</i>. He vaguely remembered Rebecca singing one of those songs one time, so he figured it was a musical she'd like. The ticket prices, though, were definitely out of his league. That was no Secret Santa gift. </p>
<p>He sighed and went to close the page, when his eye fell on a banner on the top. "From today until the 21st of December, we will be giving away two tickets to <i>My Fair Lady</i> to five lucky winners each day. Click here for more information!"</p>
<p>He browsed the page; it didn't look terribly complicated. You could enter one time each day and you had to give the answer to a question that would be easily Googleable. The five winners would be chosen randomly. </p>
<p>That would fit the bill, right? Sure, it would still not have cost him any money, but it was different from inviting her to his own restaurant. He entered the draw. He could always think of something else if he didn't win.</p><hr/>
<p>He'd convinced himself he wouldn't enter each day, that it wasn't that important, that he didn't want this whole Secret Santa thing to take up that much of his time. But still every day, as he was doing inventory, he found himself straying to the theatre website and googling the answer, as if there really was nothing better he could be doing with his day.</p>
<p>It was just cheaper that way, he told himself. He was just trying to make the best of this whole stupid Secret Santa thing. It wasn't like it was the imagined version of Rebecca's face as she held the tickets in her hand that made him put in this much effort.</p><hr/>
<p>Two days before their Secret Santa and Greg still hadn't gotten his hands on tickets. Maybe he'd end up buying that Miranda book after all. If only he could remember the title, or the full name of the author.</p><hr/>
<p>He stared at the e-mail he had just gotten. Just before he'd clicked on the 'order' button on Amazon - he'd very subtly gotten Rebecca talking about the book, which hadn't been hard - he'd figured he should probably check one last time. </p>
<p>And there it had been.</p>
<p>"You won!" the subject exclaimed in happy letters, and he'd have dismissed it as spam, if not for the e-mail address associated with it (he should tell them to change their subject, though, how many of those e-mails would have gotten lost over the years?). </p>
<p>He could either print out the tickets they had sent him, or, if he wanted to, he could come get the physical tickets at the theatre itself. That was ridiculous, of course, Greg thought as he looked around for his keys. It was absolutely insane to drive all the way over there just for a different piece of paper than the piece of paper he could print out himself. There was absolutely, positively, no reason at all to-</p>
<p>He turned right at the end of the street.</p><hr/>
<p>"You got me tickets to <i>My Fair Lady</i>?" Rebecca's eyes were wide and sparkling, their brightness almost hurting Greg.</p>
<p>White Josh whistled. "That must have been crazy expensive."</p>
<p>"I didn't know we were doing expensive gifts," Josh whispered from somewhere behind him.</p>
<p>Greg shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. I won them at the theatre."</p>
<p>While that had the intended effect on most of his friends, who seemed to settle down, glad that Greg hadn't outdone them all in the financial department, Rebecca's eyes got impossibly brighter, as if she knew exactly what kind of work had gone into securing those tickets.</p>
<p>"You'll come with me, right?" she asked.</p>
<p>Greg forced himself to shake his head. "Take someone who will enjoy it," he said. "Wouldn't that be more fun?"</p>
<p>"But you will!" she insisted. "You'll like Henry Higgins. He's a grouch, he hates everything."</p>
<p>"But Eliza, right?" he asked, vaguely remembering the summary mentioning something about a budding romance.</p>
<p>Rebecca laughed. "Including Eliza, for most of the musical. Please come with me? I promise you won't be bored."</p>
<p>Sure, his reluctance had been for show, and sure, going with Rebecca had crossed his mind when he'd thought of getting her the tickets, but this suddenly turned very real. He could feel Josh's eyes boring into him, could feel Valencia's vaguely menacing presence to his left. He was terrified they'd destroy each other again, and he was fairly certain she'd get their friends in the divorce. </p>
<p>Rebecca, who had looked so happy and hopeful just moments before, was starting to look a little uncertain, and before that could worsen, before Greg could think better of it, he said: "It's a date."</p>
<p>"A date?" Rebecca perked up and Greg stifled a groan. Of course she'd listen to his word choice, and of course it would matter to her. Could he still claim that had just been a phrase, that he hadn't meant-</p>
<p>"A date," he confirmed, his mouth running off with him before his brain could finish thinking. </p>
<p>"Best Secret Santa gift ever," Rebecca whispered as she held the tickets close to her chest, and Greg couldn't help but smile. </p>
<p>This whole thing hadn't turned out so bad after all.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>